


All of you a verb in perfect view.

by Onecrazyfangirl



Category: Campaign (Podcast)
Genre: Dancing, Emotional bonding, Fluff, Magic, Multi, Other, i am just making up how black lily magic works on the fly here but, literally!, you can read the relationships as romantic or qp or frienship ! bc thats how i roll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:07:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28092888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onecrazyfangirl/pseuds/Onecrazyfangirl
Summary: "When you moveI'm put to mind of all that I wanna beWhen you moveI could never define all that you are to me"~Movement, Hozier.Gable, Travis and Margaret dance and very literal magic occurs.
Relationships: Gable/Margaret/Travis Matagot, Gable/Travis Matagot
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	All of you a verb in perfect view.

**Author's Note:**

> yes this is like my second skyjacks fic in a handful of weeks, in my defence this podcast is really this good. 
> 
> special shoutout to anyone from the uwuru server, concider this an apology for all of my crimes, love you guys <3
> 
> an even specialer shoutout to rowan for helping me not spiral for hours looking for a title, I hope this eases your last work days a little <33

Margaret was pointedly not counseling them. After the whole Dref ordeal she had punctuated in no uncertain terms she was _not working._

It was just so that them and Travis were in the same room, and that Margaret was there, with her chair half in front of the door having a distinct “I won’t let you leave until you talk” air about her. 

This had become somewhat common, she was just there as an impartial mediator for when they crossed lines. She seemed to enjoy it. She was looking between them with obvious amusement as they both did not look at eachother.

Travis particularly was staring at a fixed point on the wall and shuffling his cards. The effect of him ignoring them was lessened by his legs propped up on their lap.

Gable was pretending to read a book, their hand laid lightly upon Travis’ ankle, occasionally catching Margarets gaze and going back to their book.

“This isn’t a competition you know,” Margaret said, “you aren’t winning or anything.”

“Speak for yourself, I think I’m winning spectacularly.” Travis said, randomly pulling out a card of his deck, pulling the union and quickly shuffling the cards again.

Margaret rolled her eyes.

“I am not here to force you to talk,” she said plainly, “you are welcome to ignore each other how long you want. I am just here so you don’t start a fight again, since that seems to be the only way you resolve tension.”

She had a point. They had recently told her what exactly had happened in Nordia and she was still incredulous at their incapability of conflict resolution.

Gable could hear Travis’ small petulant “we kissed too, you know.” but even he knew that wasn’t that great of an argument. 

Gable sighed. They wanted to talk, but they weren’t sure how to anymore. Nordia had very much felt like the climax of something and they had no clue how to continue.

They reimagined their fight. The rain pouring down on them; Travis’ hurt look on his face; the actual fighting. It had been like a dance.

“I have an idea,” they said, standing up suddenly and almost making Travis fall over.

“That doesn’t happen often.” Travis muttered, ever so helpful.

Margaret just had a single raised eyebrow.

“Yes, Gable?” she asked.

“It’s about learning to be comfortable with each other right?”, Gable said. Margaret at least was interested where this was going.

“You could put it that way.” she said.

“What if we danced?” 

Gable made direct eye contact with Travis, who had a brief moment of several emotions passing his face before he went back to his disinterested smirk.

Gable had their own things around dancing, the way they always fell into the familiar steps of battle. The rigidity of the dances they still remembered they had done before body or time meant anything.

But that’s exactly why this might help.

“I don’t think they even know how to dance.” Travis said to Margaret, but he was standing up nevertheless.

They stood in front of each other somewhat awkwardly, because as much as they hated to admit it, Travis had a point. Aside from an austere angelic version of a waltz and drunk moving around to music in a bar, Gable had no clue how this worked.

But they noticed in Travis’ hesitation to put his arms around them. Neither did Travis.

Margaret was laughing at them a little. They must look like unsure teenagers in their first ever dance.

She came in between them, her arms crossed but she couldn’t fight the smile on her face.

“You two have never danced together before.” she stated and shook her head a bit.

“Well I mean-”

“There was one time in that bar-”

“You were rather drunk-”

“Oh, you should have seen yourself-”

“There was that ball, then.”

“The heist?”

“I would hardly call it a heist, Gable, you killed everyone if I recall correctly.”

“They were red feathers though.”

“I am not saying you were wrong to kill them _,_ I am just saying we didn’t dance.”

“Alright, that's enough,” Margaret said and took them both by the hand. “I’ll teach you a dance from my hometown, easy to do with three.”

She did, it started with spinning together in a circle, holding hands, some careful back and forth steps and then what should’ve been really easy spins and claps. The sort of dance you would dance in a festival, switching dance partners around and clapping along to music.

Gable picked it up surprisingly quickly, Travis not so much, but even then they all fell into a relaxed rhythm as they attempted to master it. All of them only laughing a little bit when Travis tripped over his own feet.

Margaret was a very kind teacher and soon they were all looking at each other with delight as they swayed. 

The size difference was a little bit comical, but it also meant Gable was able to spin them very easily.

They spinned Margaret first, gently and easily, she giggled, and Gable felt the magic filling the room.

Travis was looking at them almost a little breathless, this was going to be _fun_.

“Feeling left out Matagot?” Margaret said coyly.

He huffed, but didn’t complain when Gable twirled him and by the time he stopped spinning he was fighting a genuine smile.

“I guess you aren’t too bad at this, Gable.” he said, taking their and Margaret's hands again and spinning them in a circle again. 

It felt like flying, their heart racing and power in the room giving them a pleasant buzz. The soft candle light and the stars visible outside made the scene almost idyllic. There was softness in the moment and all of them felt more relaxed than they had in a good while.

They went on for a bit, reveling in the intimacy, half-stumbling over each other's feet. Occasionally slowing down to lean against each other and catch their breath. They all felt the magic flowing through them like electricity. Although it would take them a while to see the coil of magic forming around them.

Occasionally one of them would attempt to duck under the arms of the other two, laughing as Gable failed to do so, unbeknownst to them tangling the strings of magic around them further.

It was only when Gable tried to twirl Travis again and he tripped over what seemed like tripwire and Gable was only just able to catch him, ending up practically dipping him, that the dance came to a stop and they all noticed the spell they had weaved together.

Gable couldn’t quite see the string, but they felt it tangled around them, they felt the emotion pulsating through it. It was a little like the strings that tied them up in Nordia, if less pressing this time. But it still left all three of them interlaced in the middle of the room.

“Oh dear,” Margaret said, she was looking at the strings around them “You two make quite powerful magic, it seems I may have let it run a little loose as it were.”

Gable had by now helped Travis up properly but was unable still to move away from him. 

“You are saying we accidentally wove a spell.” Travis said, properly exasperated.

Gable felt the wave of fondness that didn’t quite make it into his voice. Travis Matagot was an interesting man to be emotionally tethered to. 

Margaret shrugged.

“I don’t know if i would call it a spell perse, but yes essentially.”

“Can you stop it?” Gable asked, as the idea of fully feeling everything Travis was feeling -and vice versa- was a scary thought.

“Yes, but I have to be careful we shouldn’t-”

She didn’t get further than that Travis plucked one of the strings in an attempt to wrestle out of their embrace.

A wave of more than 200 years of concentrated emotion fell over Gable like ice cold water after a warm bath. 

it was something like the feeling of needing someone so badly it aches, accompanied by brief flashes of something like memory.

_“I need your help,” said in a thousand different ways._

_The smell of summer rain._

_Gable holding Travis’ hand running from someone, both of them almost bursting into giggles._

_A hushed whisper Gable didn’t quite catch in the middle of the night._

It wasn’t too bad, but it was incredibly overwhelming, Gable gasped for air.

Underneath there was the calming presence of Margaret, her composed emotions in the spell, her gentle hand in their hand. 

_Like the beacon of a lighthouse_ Gable thought distantly.

Travis pupils were wide and he was shaking ever so slightly.

“As I was saying,” Margaret said now a little softer, “we shouldn’t just yank at the strings.”

“Got it.” Travis said a little like he had been punched in the gut.

“We are going to try and retrace our steps so as to not disturb them too much, and if needed I’ll help you untangle some of these,” she made direct eye contact with Travis, “Gently.”

“Yes, yes fine I get it .”

They set to work, it was like the string games Jonnit had tried to teach Gable. 

Step over this string, now twirl Margaret counter clockwise, now carefully under a bridge made by their hands.

Occasionally one of them would brush against a string, unlocking a series of weirdly specific hard to pinpoint emotions and memories each time.

_A party neither of them wanted to go to that they both begrudgingly enjoyed._

_A long forgotten inside joke._

_The feeling of drowning. Together._

Margaret guided them through the steps, occasionally stopping, reminding them to breathe. Gently grounding both of them, like an anchor to reality. 

_Guilt and grief so intertwined up in each other neither of them knew which bits were their own._

_The shaky exhale of fond annoyance._

_Let me take care of you (implied but never said)._

_So many broken and unbroken promises._

None of them spoke, Gable could feel Travis’ hand gripping theirs fiercely. Margaret gave them an encouraging smile. 

“Halfway there.” she said, squeezing their hand softly.

_The surprise when the other asks if they can come with, because shouldn’t it be obvious by now?_

_“You won’t get rid of me that easily”_

_Waking up to an empty room._

_The coppery taste of blood._

_Kisses- desperate, sweet, while crying, while laughing, on the forehead, in the inside of the palm, on the cheek-_

Travis had teared up by now, and Gable felt their knees buckling a bit, Margaret’s energy was somehow still serene. 

“Let's take a bit of a break.” she said.

“Are you alright?” Travis asked her, in a smaller, shakier voice than Gable had ever heard from him.

“Don’t worry Travis,” she said, “this is my job and I am really rather good at it.”

They can all feel her _but I am proud of you for asking_ echoing through the remaining threads of magic.

Gable took a big breath and nodded, adjusting their grip on Travis' hand, and Margaret got to work on the next knott.

_Going back to a town decades later and realising the square where you danced hasn’t changed at all._

_The anger of loving someone that is so recklessly self destructive._

_The helplessness of not being able to comfort each other._

_A drink that people haven’t made in over a century._

_The oppressive smell of a forest._

They are getting the hang of this, Travis’ confident smirk is returning to his face and Gable gets the urge to roll their eyes at him.

Like it has always been.

_fire, destruction, justice._

_“I hope we both die” and meaning it._

_The feeling of tears into the crook of your neck._

_A shared look no one else will get._

_The sound of rain pattering outside a quiet room._

“How long do you think this will take us Margaret,” Travis said, “This won't be as easy if I am a snake you know.”

Gable lightly poked him, gave him a familiar look that very clearly meant: _behave._

“We should be done before daybreak Travis,” she said, the emotions were clearly starting to wear a little on her, she still had a challenging smile however, “as long as you don’t whine that is.”

Travis rolled his eyes, the bastard.

_A chord with indescribable melanchancholy tied to it._

_Lashing out. Feeling guilty. Feeling attacked, too vulnerable. repeat._

_Laughing so hard your ribs hurt._

_So many hugs, while saying goodbye, while fearing death, while celebrating victories, to annoy the other._

They had arrived at the last bit of string. Gable was glad it was over but didn’t regret it; this tedious work was probably still easier than explaining any of these things out loud.

Margaret plucked the last knotted thread.

“This one’s strong,” she warned, “then it’s over.”

She pulled it loose.

_Love, love so big it felt like religion, not quite want not quite need not quite anything._

_Quiet mornings with almost too vulnerable looks that you can’t bring yourself to acknowledge._

_Raw emotion, I care about you, I don’t want to live in a world you are not in, I am better with you, what would I be without you?_

_Please don’t leave me, please don’t stay._

_A constant melody you no longer know how to live without._

_Hands stretched out, just about to grab each other but not quite, not yet._

_It aches to see you happy, it hurts to see you suffering._

_I have you and that’s the only thing that’s never changed, that I have never lost._

They all collapse into the nearest fainting couch. Gable kindly doesn’t comment on Travis flopping on top of them, exhausted. Processing more emotions than he allowed himself to feel in years.

Margaret looks at them from some distance. She also looks tired and Gable makes an inviting gesture.

Margaret sits next to them but leans practically into their lap. She mumbles something about how now she really isn’t going to work and she will add this to their bill into their chest, Travis mumbles something that might be a quip back.

They just lie there for a while, a half-asleep Travis in their lap and Margaret idly playing with their hands next to them. It’s a pleasant tiredness, like they achieved something at least.

They bashfully kiss the top of Travis head. He stirs a bit raising his head with a sleepy smile 

“Gee Gable,” he says, probably more earnestly than he intends “didn’t know you cared.”

He gets cut off by his own yawn, lying his head onto their chest again, trying to get some sleep in before dawn.

Margaret huffs a quiet laugh, wrapping Gable’s arm around herself tucking herself into their side.

“He is incorrigible.” She says and Gable isn’t sure if she really sounds that fond or if it's the remnants of magic in the air.

Gable shakes their head, looking unashamedly adoring at both of them.

“You should also try to get some sleep, Margaret.”

She murmurs what might be a quiet thank you before dozing off as well.

They’ll all have to talk about all of it tomorrow, what it means, what they are, the emotions and memories. Travis will transform, there will be problems to solve, things to do.

For now they can be intertwined, and Gable can hold them as they sleep. 

They don’t really need to sleep a lot, so they can enjoy the warmth, the calmness of their rhythmic breathing and the familiar sounds of the Uhuru.

They close their eyes and hold on to this moment and finally, they too, drop off.


End file.
